


All That Glitters is Gold If You Try Hard Enough

by thursdaysfallenangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP, but also a surefire way to get laid, glitter is a threat to masculinity, human!Cas, the long-awaited glitter dick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdaysfallenangel/pseuds/thursdaysfallenangel
Summary: Dean has seen a lot of things in the bedroom. He has never seen glitter lube before.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 141





	All That Glitters is Gold If You Try Hard Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Hannah, for donating to my E4k in 2017. Got it there eventually.
> 
> Forever thanks to Tricia for the feedback and beta, and to Isis for the feedback.

Dean’s got one talent that has been consistent throughout his entire life: he’s got a stomach made of steel. Anything, anytime, he can eat it, ever since he was a kid. He still remembers one of his first real hunts, him and dad leaving ten-year-old Sammy at a motel alone, driving out to an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town and killing the two vampires that had been hiding there. It was the first time Dean had ever seen someone beheaded, let alone beheaded someone himself. He can still remember the harsh scratch of the machete against bone, the sickening squelch of skin and vein and muscle collapsing in on itself as it took him more than one hack to get the blade through clean.

Half an hour later he was scarfing down a Big Mac from McDonald’s.

Hell, it even got him some proud words from dad. When all that was left to eat was a bowl of Fruit Loops and a packet of ramen seasoning with some Speghetti-o’s, Dean never complained, just poured the bowl of cereal for Sammy and choked down the artificially chicken-flavored soggy noodles. He never inconvenienced John by getting sick off of something he ate. “Kid’ll put anything in his mouth,” his dad used to say, awarding Dean a rare half smile.

Sitting here on his bed in the bunker, Cas spread out before him, Dean privately thinks that this is not at all what John Winchester had meant.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas growls petulantly, his hips bucking from where they’re bracketed between Dean’s legs. He’s already fully erect, and Dean groans as Cas’ cock brushes against his own.

“Impatient, Cas?”

Cas bucks his hips up again, and Dean resists just dropping on top of Cas completely and grinding their hips together, instead falling forward so that his hands are braced on the mattress on either side of Cas’ head. “Asshole,” Cas tells him.

“Yeah?” Dean grins and leans forward, catching Cas’ lips with his own. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“I need to be inside you,” Cas snaps. Though Dean can hear the usually off-putting needy thread catching at the end of his words, on Cas it’s ridiculously attractive, the sheer force behind the sound of stone churning over stone and the knowledge that Dean is the one causing it.

“Jesus, okay,” he huffs out a laugh, mouthing along the edge of Cas’ stubble roughened jaw before flipping onto his back. “You got lube?”

“Yes.”

Dean closes his eyes as Cas leans over him to get at the nightstand, his newly gun-calloused palm running up Dean’s thigh and his dick dragging across his stomach. “Fuck, Cas,” he bites out, and he can practically hear Cas’ smirk as the small sound of a cap snapping open echoes through the room. “Gonna stretch me open? Gonna get me nice and wet and open for you?”

He’s grinding against Cas’ leg, and he can feel Cas shifting, the wet sound of lube sliding over skin as Cas spreads it over his fingers. “Yes, Dean, yes, please. Let me take care of you.”

“Do it sweetheart. Need you.” Dean opens his eyes, because he’ll never get tired of the way Cas looks during sex, face flushed and eyes a brilliant blue, hair darker and messier than ever.

A glint of… _something_ catches the corner of Dean’s eye and it’s only instinct honed from years of hunting that allows him to rip his gaze from Cas’ face and grab his hand before it can get anywhere near him. “Cas,” he says slowly. “What the hell is this?”

Cas’ nose scrunches as he glances down at his hand, looking completely exasperated at the interruption. “It’s lube.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean replies, and to Cas’ obvious frustration he sits up, nudging Cas backwards until he’s settled kneeling over Dean’s lap with his hand held between them.

A tanned, broad hand liberally coated in shining, glittery liquid.

“Why the hell is it glittering?”

Cas shrugs. “We got it from Jody and Donna’s bachelorette party.”

“Yeah,” Dean says firmly. “That shit’s not going anywhere near my ass.”

“It’s already on my hand,” he frowns, petulant. “And we’ve learned from experience that I need to use my hand first Dean, because otherwise penetration is—”

“Ok, ok,” Dean interrupts. “I know how sex works. But there’s no way in _hell_ —” he clamps a hand back around Cas’ wrist, since his own hand had been heading slowly and steadily towards Dean’s dick, “that you’re getting those fairy herpes anywhere near me.”

Cas sits all the way back on his heels now, frown digging deep enough that Dean almost has to restrain himself from lunging forward and kiss it away. Almost. He’s a little preoccupied warily watching Cas’ hand, which looks like it just had a session jacking off a My Little Pony.

“Dean, there is nothing different in the physical make-up of this lube as opposed to what we usually use, other than,” he flexes his hand, and the glitter catches the light on Dean’s nightstand and winks at Dean, “it looks extremely pleasing.”

“Yeah, but dude,” Dean absolutely does _not_ whine. “It’s…y’know. It’s girly.”

“Dean,” Cas says calmly. “If I have to wash my hands to appease your threatened masculinity, then I am certainly not touching your dick.”

“We talkin’ ever, or for like a set period of time, or…” Cas begins swinging his leg over Dean’s waist to get off the bed, and Dean clamps a hand around his thigh, stopping him. “Hey, hey, Cas! I was kidding!”

Kind of. He was kind of kidding. But that glitter lube shit _was_ already all over Cas’ hand, and he seemed into it, and…geez, if Dean was being totally honest with himself (which he can be, here in his own brain, fuck off preconceived notions of gender), the glitter did make a really nice contrast, sparkling gently on Cas’ broad, tanned fingers. No doubt it would look even better slicked over his dick. And rimming Dean’s asshole.

Dean’s heart gives some kind of sick thrill at the thought of the evidence of Cas pounding his ass into submission being the remnants of gold glitter smeared over both of them.

Dean coughs, the better to deepen his voice, and gruffly says, “Fine. But just the one time, got it?”

Cas does that one smile, the one that only barely touches his lips but crinkles his eyes, and it’s instantly worth it.

Anything Cas wants these days is worth it. After what the guy had been through, with Chuck, heaven and hell, and now becoming human, stuck with them forever? Dean will do anything he wants.

Their erections had flagged while Dean had tried to argue the indignity of using craft supplies to have sex, but the problem is solved when Cas settles back over him and promptly wraps his lubed hand around Dean.

Dean swears, trying to ignore the fact that now his dick is going to be glittery as well, but catches Cas’ wide grin and swears again. “You did that on purpose.”

“Yes, I think I did,” Cas muses, sliding his hand under Dean’s balls and leaning forward until their noses touch. “Do you have a problem with that, Winchester?”

Dean shuts him up by threading a hand through the back of Cas’ hair and pulling him the rest of the way forward to kiss him. The other hand remains clamped around Cas’ hip, and he moans into Cas’ mouth when he feels his thick fingers begin circling his rim.

Cas begins mouthing down Dean’s chest as he works in the first finger, his stubble scratching against Dean’s chest. Dean digs his heels into the mattress and tries not to laugh hysterically at the thought of there being glitter inside him, and fails.

“Something funny?” Cas growls, and before Dean can respond, Cas flips him onto his stomach with a display of strength Dean has made no secret about being into. He rewards Cas by grinding his hips into the mattress, but Cas stills him with one broad palm spread across the small of his back.

“What?” Dean asks, because usually Cas can’t get enough of the tables turning, of Dean finally allowing himself to be the needy mess he otherwise keeps tightly in check.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re staring at my ass.”

“I mean all of you,” Cas says, and then leans down and licks him, which is not something they’ve ever done before, and it is how Dean justifies the yelp he makes when it happens.

“Cas!”

“I like the glitter,” Cas tells him very seriously, and then two fingers are inside him, working him open.

Right. So glitter lube was good.

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean gasps, pushing his hand back, palm to the air. The weight at the small of his back leaves immediately as Cas entwines their fingers together, continuing to work Dean open with his other hand.

It’s not long until Cas adds finger number three, and Dean knows it’s coming a split second before it happens, Cas determinedly hitting his prostate with the first thrust. “Jesus, Cas,” he rasps, and the hand wrapped around his own squeezes before Cas is pulling back. Dean hears the click of the lube cap as Cas glitters himself up (the haze of pleasure has stopped that from being quite so hilarious), and it’s not long before Cas is sinking inside of him.

Later, when they are finished and Dean is lying in the dark, unable to sleep with Cas pressed against his side, he will think about how he doesn’t deserve this. About how he’s spent his whole life denying himself happiness like this in order to save others from himself. About how Cas deserves better than this.

But now, with Cas inside him, pressed chest to back with his breath on Dean’s neck, he selfishly lets himself have it.

Cas begins thrusting, slowly at first, building speed until he’s going deeper and deeper, hitting Dean’s prostate and forcing the breath out of him in small gasps and moans he tries to hide in the mattress. Cas hears though, because Cas always hears, and he thrusts again, demanding. “Dean.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean bites out, and he can feel the familiar heat building in his belly as his dick is thrust into the mattress, can tell Cas is getting close as the rhythm he’s worked up becomes more erratic. “C’mon baby, you got it, c’mon.”

Cas makes a soft noise, almost a whimper, and the sudden rush of warmth Dean feels puts him over the edge as well.

It doesn’t take long for Cas to pull out (he has learned, though Dean is careful not to voice it out loud, that the mess is the one thing Dean doesn’t enjoy). His arm goes immediately around Dean’s waist, although that desire is also something he’s never voiced out loud.

“Jesus.” Dean takes a deep breath, still on his stomach, before rolling onto his side and into Cas, wincing at the wet spot on the mattress and the mess he can feel was made of his ass.

His ass. Which is presumably covered in glitter.

Behind him, Cas chuckles.

“What?”

“My semen is appropriately decorated,” Cas tells him solemnly.

Dean barks out a laugh, wrinkles his nose. “Fucking gross. We’re not doing that again.”

“Of course, Dean.”

***

Lebanon, with its grand population of just over 200, does not have a grocery store. Anytime Dean wants to cook, really cook, or at least stock up on groceries, it requires a trek out to the Walmart in Hastings. It’s not a trip Dean minds making, but it’s definitely not one he’s willing to undertake just because Sam drank the last beer.

Luckily, if it’s just a few things they need, the small convenience store in town is more than enough.

Dean’s been in here enough times he barely pays attention as he heads to the back wall where the beer is stacked in coolers, too busy muttering about Sam’s refusal to have good manners and replace the damn beer he finished because “I’m this close to deciphering this text about naga Dean, I can’t just leave it here.”

Cas, the bastard, had actually been interested enough to leave his crossword puzzle to peer over Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever. Let them have their weird snake hybrids. Dean just wanted beer so he could watch House Hunters.

It’s when he’s cutting through the small pharmacy section, pack of El Sol in hand, when he spots it sitting innocuously on the shelf next to the usual small bottles of KY and Astroglide.

Dean probably should’ve said something to Cas when he finally caught sight of the bottle of lube they had used, white unicorn with a rainbow overhead proudly displayed on the front. If he’d said something, he probably could have saved some face in the John Winchester School of Manliness. But if he’d said something, he also wouldn’t have been able to use it all up in the shower in a week without Cas making a point of it.

So sue him. It did make his dick look pretty, and even if Dean’s not the most experienced guy with anal around, he has used lube before. He’s only ever used fucking glitter lube with Cas.

He refuses to think of this as sentimental.

He’s studying the small tube – this one is doughnut flavored apparently, and now he’s trying to remember if Cas has had a doughnut yet, and if it might be something he likes since Cas, much to Dean’s chagrin, doesn’t seem to have much of a developed sweet tooth past eating pie when Dean sets it down in front of him – when a voice from over his shoulder asks, “You finding everything ok honey?”

Dean, who had spent the summer of ’96 constantly anticipating random bowie knife attacks that John had called “tactile training,” jerked so hard the bottle of lube was whipped back onto the shelf, causing a domino effect of multiple bottles of lube to explode onto the floor.

“Shit- fuck, I mean—” Dean scrambles to collect as many bottles as he can, face flushed bright red, while Angela, who’s been the cashier here for as long as he can remember, chuckles.

“Little over-eager there, aren’t you boy?” she asks, stooping down to help him. “Not that I can blame you with your young man.”

Dean can feel his ears burning as well, and almost, _almost_ , wishes he was back in hell. He still hasn’t gotten used to small town living, and Angela, who’s been running this shop since he and Sam found the bunker, is just as likely to recount this event to Cas when he comes in next week to pick up Bird Watcher’s Digest.

“Just – I’ve never seen this before,” he stammers, shaking the unicorn lube. “Just curious.”

Angela eyes the tube in his hand as she dumps the KYs she’s gathered up back onto the shelf. “Part of our Valentine’s Day stock. Don’t think Peter even looked at what he was ordering.”

“Didn’t know people in Lebanon even used lube,” Dean joked, desperately trying to make this conversation anything near comfortable. Then what Angela actually said registers, and he pauses. “Wait, it’s almost Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh honey,” Angela gave him a sympathetic look. “It was yesterday.”

Dean opens and shuts his mouth again. They got back from that werewolf hunt on the ninth so…yup. Today was the fifteenth.

If he were dating anyone else in the world, he’d probably be in trouble. He’s not sure Cas even knows what Valentine’s Day is. Well no, that’s not exactly true – dude was a saint, wasn’t he? So Cas probably knows about it, just not in the trumped up, Hallmark, pink candy heart way humans do.

Dean should ask him that story sometime. Not that he’s overly interested in the religious crap, but Cas is. And uh, Dean likes listening to his stories. It’s not hard to miss the way Cas’ face lights up when he asks about his past as an angel either, like he can’t fathom someone being interested in what he has to say about himself.

Dean’s pretty familiar with that feeling, and the back of his throat always feels kind of sharp and jagged when he thinks about Cas feeling it too.

So just because Cas doesn’t know he was supposed to get flowers and chocolates from Dean yesterday doesn’t mean he can’t do something for him. But he’s not sure the grocery store bought roses and heart-shaped box of chocolates he’d managed to scrape together for Lisa would really cut it for Cas either.

Cas is, uh (come on Winchester, you’re in the privacy of your own brain here, say it) Cas is special.

“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” Angela is saying, and Dean figures she’s interpreted whatever dumbstruck look he has on his face as panic. “Castiel doesn’t seem the type to hold a grudge.”

Dean winces, his blow up with Cas still too recent for him to be comfortable (months later and with the whole Chuck business in the rearview mirror, Sam calls it the ‘Destivorce,’ a term Eileen happily came up with a name sign for – Dean hates both of them). “Uh no, he definitely doesn’t do that.”

“There, see?” Angela smiles. “Now I think we have some heart shaped pie on sale, bring home some of that and treat him nice, you’ll be right as rain.”

Dean perks up at pie, but that’s always been his thing. He looks down at the tube of Unicorn Spit in his hand and purses his lips. “Rain check on the pie Ang, but I will take this.”

***

Dean should feel like an idiot hauling the bunker door open with his grocery bag of beer and lube and a scraggly bundle of wildflowers tucked under his arm. He really should.

Somehow, he doesn’t.

Sam must be done with his snake translations, because he’s calling up at Dean as soon as his feet hit the stairs. “Did you get that new IPA?”

“You want fancy-ass beer, you can go into town yourself Sammy,” Dean tells him, hauling the grocery bag onto the map table. “Where’s Cas?”

“His room,” Sam answers, peering over his laptop and raising an eyebrow. “Are those flowers?”

Dean grunts at him. “You know yesterday was Valentine’s Day?”

Sam gives him an exasperated look. “Did you not wonder where I was at all last night?”

“Gross,” Dean says cheerfully. The statement is obligatory big brother, but he’s not going to hide how happy he is that Sam gets to have a relationship with a girl as great as Eileen. “Where is the missus anyway?”

“Salt n’ burn one town over.”

“She still not letting you go with her?”

Sam scowls at him. “She’s been hunting alone her whole life. We’re getting there.”

Dean thinks about how he acted the first time Cas went off on a hunt on his own and has to admit his little brother is handling it way better, at least outwardly. “Bit different now. She knows we’re here for her.”

“That was almost touching,” Sam smirks at him and digs into the grocery bag for the beer. “Is this mood what made you go skipping through a field to pick daisies for Cas?”

“Bite me.”

“You sure you’d like that?” Sam asks, brandishing a familiar looking small silver tube. “I’m not wearing any Unicorn Spit.”

Dean snatches the tube from him. “You said Cas is in his room?”

Sam closes his laptop and shoves it in his bag, slinging the whole thing over his shoulder. “I’m going to the library.”

“Don’t wait up!” Dean calls behind him.

Cas doesn’t really sleep in his room, ever, but Dean figured it was important to give him his own space. Cas seemed confused by the concept at first, not really surprising since the room Dean had “given” him when he was an angel was only occasionally used to store Cas’ trench coat the few times he took it off, but he caught on quickly enough. Much to Dean’s relief he’d started lining his shelves with interesting looking rocks, books from the bunker library he’d taken a liking to, and a plastic toy Olaf from _Frozen_ that Dean had gotten the last time he ordered a Happy Meal and promptly shoved at him.

Things were good. Things meant Cas was staying.

Cas’ door is closed, which is unusual but not totally weird. He usually leaves his door cracked open so he or Sam know they’re welcome to walk in, but it didn’t take Cas long to learn about alone time either. Usually Dean leaves him be when alone time is clearly being established, but flowers and lube seems like a pretty good reason to break that rule. “Cas?”

There’s a thump and the sound of a drawer slamming before Cas opens the door sans the flannel he’d been wearing earlier. “Dean,” he beams. “Did you want to watch House Hunters?”

“Nah, I know you like Tiny House Hunters better.”

“It’s improbable that so many people could exist in such a small living space,” Cas agrees, stepping back from the door. His eyes scans over Dean and catches on the flowers dangling from his hand. “Are those lilacs?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean thrusts them at Cas and moves inside, closing the door behind him. “They’re for you,” he adds.

Cas, quite frankly, looks like he isn’t sure what to do with himself. He takes the flowers, wide eyed, and stares at them.

“Sorry, yesterday was Valentine’s Day,” Dean explains, “and I didn’t get you anything, not that it matters a ton, it’s kind of a made up holiday, but you and I, you know, are ah, together, and it’s kind of a human custom to let your boy – your person know you lo – care about them, so…” he grins cheekily. “Flowers.”

Cas is carefully setting the flowers down on his desk, like he’s worried they’re gonna break if he handles them the wrong way. “I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s ok,” Dean shrugs. “Not like angels really celebrate Valentine’s Day, right?”

“This holiday is for expressing how much you care about someone?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and then has a horrifying image of Cas buying Sam heart shaped chocolates next year. “Well, the people you lo—”

Cas yanks him forward and kisses him soundly, his hand bunched in both Dean’s shirts at his waist.

“If I’d known you were gonna kiss me like that, I probably would have remembered it was Valentine’s Day yesterday.”

Cas raises an eyebrow and pushes Dean until the back of his knees hit the bed and he falls on his ass onto the mattress. “Perhaps we should make sure you don’t forget.”

Dean sucks in a breath and looks up at him. “How are you gonna do that?”

“We might have to get creative, since you used all the lube,” Cas says, half disapproving. He’s already started unbuttoning his jeans, and the casual, unabashed way he goes about it almost distracts Dean from unclenching his fist from the tube in his hand.

“Got that covered.”

Cas grabs his hand, tube and all, and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. “You’re the smartest man I know,” he says, completely sincere. Dean shivers at the compliment and Cas cradles his jaw, gentle but firm, like he does sometimes when Dean is going to protest, before he even really knows he’s going to protest.

“It’s just for you,” he says instead. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“The day after,” Cas corrects, studying the tube. “It tastes like doughnuts?”

“Thought the appeal for you would be the glitter.”

Cas’ eyes crinkle and then he’s pulling his shirt over his head, mussing his hair so much Dean can’t help but reaching a hand up and threading his fingers into it. Cas catches it, his palm warm and broad over Dean’s, and manages to wiggle his jeans over his hips and step out of them with the other. “So this was just an attempt to seduce me?”

Dean slides his hand from his hair to Cas’ cheek, Cas’ own hand still on top of his. “You really think I’d do something like that?”

“I think,” Cas muses, “that you are the most thoughtful, considerate being I’ve ever known in my years of existence, and that your consideration would extend to buying glittery lube to make me happy.” He turns his face and kisses Dean’s palm.

“Maybe I just wanted to get laid,” Dean says lowly.

“Well then we’re both happy,” Cas’ mouth turns up and he flicks open the button on Dean’s fly, nudging at his hip. “Off.”

“You got it.” Dean wiggles out of his jeans and kicks them off his feet, shrugging out of his flannel at the same time. Cas has backed up a little to give him room and is watching him undress, fingers toying idly with the cap of the lube bottle. “You know we’ll never get that stuff out of the sheets now?” Dean asks, nodding at it. “Glitter ain’t no joke.”

“I’m aware,” Cas nods. “It’s almost like marking territory. I suppose if I ate you out it would be stuck in my stubble for weeks.”

Dean stops trying to wrestle his shirt over his head and stares at Cas. “Uh. Yes.”

“Would you like that?” he asks, and this time the note of innocence is too much for even Dean to believe it.

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” he replies, throwing his shirt to some corner of the room and grabbing Cas’ hand to yank him onto the bed. Cas’ weight lands on heavily on him with a grunt, and Dean loves this, loves that there are moments in his life where he can be overpowered and surrounded but feel safe instead of in fear for his life.

Cas chuckles, and it’s still such a rare sound that Dean revels in it, running his palm up Cas’ bare back. “You still got the lube, or did I knock you senseless?”

“I have the lube,” Cas says solemnly, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting straddling Dean’s waist. Holding Dean’s gaze, he flips the lid and squirts a bit on his finger before bringing it to his mouth.

“What’s the verdict?” Dean grins.

“It tastes like lube,” Cas decides. “And sugar. Is this what doughnuts taste like?”

“Must be, s’what it says on the tube.”

Cas hums and squirts more onto his hand. Like before, the glitter in the lube is gold and catches the light at every movement Cas’ hand makes. Dean’s so busy watching Cas study his hand he’s a second too late from stopping him from swiping a finger just below Dean’s eye.

“Hey!” he sputters, swiping at the cool sticky liquid on his cheek. “What was that for?”

“Hmm,” Cas says, almost sounding disappointed. “Doesn’t compare.” And then he’s kissing Dean, and it’s kind of hard to focus on anything else.

Cas isn’t being at all careful about where he’s trailing his lubed up, glittery hand as he kisses Dean, and Dean can’t muster up the energy to be annoyed about it. Cas’ comment about marking territory earlier is sticking in his brain, and it’s not exactly hurting his erection to think that Cas is getting his hand everywhere he can on purpose. Dean’s not going to get this glitter off him for weeks.

He rips his mouth away to gasp, “possessive,” and Cas growls, moving to nibble at his neck.

“Maybe I just think you look pretty in gold.”

“Men can’t – jesus, Cas – men can’t be pretty.” He yelps when Cas gives him a particularly hard nip on his pec.

“Men can be pretty, and you are certainly a very pretty man,” he says firmly, pulling back to squirt more lube on his hand. Despite his protests, Dean’s dick is definitely on board with everything happening, straining towards Cas’ like there’s some sort of magnetic pull between them. Cas looks down with interest, taking them both in hand and giving one stroke before letting go. Dean whimpers.

“Do you think you can come untouched?”

“Cas I swear to god, if you’re not gonna do anything but smear that lube all over me…”

Cas smirks and strokes him again. “I meant your cock.”

Dean groans. “You can do whatever you want sweetheart, just do something.”

Cas leans forward until their noses brush. “I’m going to make you come without touching you,” he says lowly and seriously. 

Dean’s stomach jumps and he closes his eyes, breathing out deeply. Cas is quiet, his clean hand clutching at Dean’s left shoulder, and he gives him a minute before he kisses him again, his other hand sliding around Dean’s back and circling his rim.

Maybe it’s because of Dean’s shower sessions lately, but it doesn’t take long for Cas to add finger number two, his thrusts becoming more erratic when Dean hitches one leg around Cas’ waist to give him better access.

“Beautiful,” Cas mutters, and Dean swears, arching his back.

“C’mon Cas, give it to me.”

“Give you what?” he murmurs against his lips. “Use your words, Dean.”

“Give me – fuck – give me _you_ , please, Cas, need you.”

“You have me,” Cas tells him, “turn over.”

Dean’s so hard he scrambles to do so without really thinking about it, the pressure of the memory foam mattress making him groan. He’s about to start thrusting when both of Cas’ hands clamp around his hips, one dry and one sticky.

“What –” he starts to say, and then there’s a brief moment where his ass feels fully exposed, and then a tentative lick.

“Jesus FUCK!” he yelps, twisting to look back at Cas. Cas lifts his head, blue eyes wide and gorgeous, dark brow furrowed as he considers Dean.

“Was that good?”

“Cas.” Dean says carefully. “Shut up and do it again.”

Dean’s not a stranger to eating women out. It was one of his favorite things to do, once upon a time. To have someone beneath you, falling apart over nothing but the skill of your tongue, to lose it himself over nothing but their enjoyment in him – it was a feedback loop of pleasure that couldn’t really be replicated anywhere else.

He’s had some women who were kinky enough to give him a rim job, but none who wanted to stay there long.

Cas is a whole different story.

He isn’t sure if it’s because Cas is still pretty new to this whole human forever thing and has never had the opportunity to become embarrassed or unsure of how things are supposed to work in the bedroom. Cas probably didn’t know the stigmatism behind eating another man’s ass, and if he did, he probably didn’t care. Because Cas is going at it like Dean’s some kind of ambrosia.

Or doughnuts. Maybe it’s the doughnuts.

Dean lets out one wheezing hysterical laugh as Cas’ stubble burns over his ass cheeks, and Cas clenches the hand around his hip harder in response. Dean is slowly losing himself to the sensation of Cas’ tongue probing into him and the stubble burn he’s definitely going to have.

The pressure in his dick is building and Dean’s sure he’s gonna do exactly what Cas wants and come without being touched.

Call him a fucking sap, but something doesn’t sit right with him and not fully sharing this whole experience with Cas, not on Valentine’s Day.

“Dean, what,” Cas says when Dean lifts his hips and flips back over, but Dean shushes him. Cas’ mouth is an absolute wreck, lips puffy and smeared with gold glitter, and Dean grins at him.

Cas squints in response. “Did you not like that?”

“Oh no, I definitely liked that,” Dean promises, taking Cas’ large hand and fitting it around their cocks. “But dunno what the point of this glitter crap was if I can’t see it.”

Cas catches on pretty quickly and starts moving his hand back and forth, burying his face in Dean’s neck. He’s whispering something, and Dean can’t really hear him, but he knows it’s Enochian.

“Feel good Cas?” he asks, pushing his hips forward. “You like how I feel?”

“Yes,” Cas growls, his hand alternating between short jerks and long strokes that has Dean panting, pushing closer and closer to Cas.

He can feel the familiar pressure building low in his stomach and Cas has that hitch in his breathing that Dean has come to know and love as the prelude to his losing it. He feels Cas’ mouth, wet against his neck, and has time to gasp out, “Cas” before letting go.

Cas follows right after, and Dean falls onto the bed, wincing at the mess smeared all over Cas’ hand. “C’mere,” he says, tugging at Cas’ hip. Cas falls next to him, and Dean leans over the side of the bed, grabbing his flannel and tossing it to him.

“There’s going to be glitter on your shirt.”

“You’re probably gonna steal it anyway,” Dean says, watching Cas scrub at his hand. The glitter is fucking everywhere. He’s catching glints of it in Cas’ stubble, on his stomach, and he doesn’t even want to know what his ass looks like.

Cas acknowledges Dean’s comment by throwing the flannel on his side of the bed, then rolling over and resting his forehead on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dude,” Dean says. “This shit is everywhere.”

“I believe that was the point,” Cas tells him, poking at Dean’s stomach. He can only assume there’s glitter there too.

“Why is this stuff such a turn on for you anyway?”

Cas is silent, and Dean thinks he’s drifted off when he replies, “You’ll laugh.”

“No I won’t,” he says immediately. “Cas, I’m the last person to laugh at someone’s kinks.”

“It’s not,” Cas hesitates. “It’s not a kink.” He twists to look at Dean and lifts a hand to his face, swiping a thumb across the spot he’d smeared lube earlier. “It reminds me of being an angel.”

“Cas, buddy,” Dean cracks a grin. “Don’t tell me angels glitter.”

“Of course not,” he says indignantly. “Angels are interdimensional wave lengths of faith and atoms. We don’t glitter.”

“So why’s glitter an angel thing?” Dean asks.

“I doubt any other angel would tell you it is,” Cas shrugs, looking at the bunker ceiling. “But with the limited perspective of the human eye, it reminds me of souls.”

“Souls?”

“Yes,” Cas says softly. “I could see souls. More than the physical aspects of a person, sometimes. They were like light, but the absence of light as well. They were bright and…” he purses his lips, “they sparkled.”

“Huh,” Dean says. It sounds cool to be honest. Cas never talked about this stuff when he was an angel, not that he had time to. It was usually doom and gloom and the next apocalypse on the horizon, Cas never mentioned sparkly souls and Dean never thought to ask about them.

“I lied,” Cas says abruptly. “It really only reminds me of your soul.”

“My soul?” Dean laughs, but Cas pushes himself up on his shoulder and glares at him.

“Your soul,” he says firmly. “Is the brightest I’ve ever seen. I regret how long I lingered in hell because of how mesmerized I was by it. It’s golden and the light,” he does a wiggle with his fingers, “it contracted? Glinted. And sometimes when you prayed, it would stretch towards me.” He smiles. “You have a beautiful soul Dean.”

Dean stares up at Cas. Not really knowing what to say. They haven’t actually ever said the words ‘I love you’ to one another, but the certainty with which Dean can feel it pouring off of Cas overwhelms him sometimes. He knows Cas can feel it too, his own god damn soul has apparently been giving him away this entire time. “It reminds me of your eyes,” he says stupidly.

Cas tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“The glitter,” Dean mumbles, unable to believe he’d really just fucking said that out loud. “Your eyes, they do this light up thing…” he trails off. Cas is smiling again, wide and gummy. “What?”

“’The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.’”

“And that means…?”

“You can see my soul too,” Cas says happily.

Dean kisses him to get that look off his face, because it’s too much, but Cas’ eyes are still shining when Dean pulls back. “You’re sappy as hell.”

“You have glitter lube in your hair,” Cas retorts, and Dean shoves him to the side, only to roll into Cas’ body heat and sling his arm around him.

“You know if Sam says something I’m not gonna be able to hold it together.”

“I don’t expect anything less.”

(In the morning, Sam comes home with Eileen in tow. They make it through pancakes before Sam comments on the glitter on Dean’s cheek, and the glitter on Cas’ arm, and the glitter on - hey, wait a minute. Dean starts howling with laughter as Cas flies into a flurry of ASL with Eileen and Sam pushes back from the table with a yell of “oh my god, keep it in the bedroom, Dean!” He has to do the dishes alone with Cas, but it’s worth it, especially when Cas comments on the glittering of the soap bubbles and Sam walks in on them making out against the sink. Again.)

**Author's Note:**

> I did EXTENSIVE research and could not find anything exactly like the glitter lube I described (although Unicorn Spit does exist). Furthermore, it seems most experts suggest not putting glitter up your ass or your vagina. Practice safe sex guys!


End file.
